She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. “It’s nothing to what I WILL do. "There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. “I’ve thought about it. The little girl uttered no remonstrance; but, replacing the flowers in the basket, burst into tears, and withdrew. The Becks were the best foster family that she had ever had. So am I. .
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